Romancing the Guttersnipe
by vcatrashfiend
Summary: Sequel to "Eliza Doolittle: The Life and Times of a Good Girl". Henry is forced to make ammends by courting the mother of his child. What could possibly go wrong? *Now complete!*
1. Where We Left Off

Romancing The Guttersnipe

Rated: T for some language and possible innuendos.

Summary: Henry is forced to make ammends by courting the mother of his child. What could possibly go wrong?

Author's Note: This will be considerably shorter than "Eliza Doolittle: The Life and Times of a Good Girl", and a great deal more light-hearted. I had intended to wrap up this storyline by the end of my previous work, but it occured to me that if I were a woman who had just spent hours in excrutiating pain, and my absentee husband showed up begging forgiveness, it would take something huge for me to be forgiving. I was so pleased with the response I got to "Eliza Doolittle: The Life and Times of a Good Girl", and I hope you all enjoy this little addition to the storyline. Thank you all!

Disclaimer: If only. Alas, I do not own the recognizable characters, and I am not making any money off of this humble tale.

Chapter One: Where We Left Off

* * *

"Show me," Eliza commanded with a hushed sort of intensity. Her eyes matched her voice, exhausted, but burning with strength.

Henry assumed, with the way that her cool hands cupped his jaw, that Eliza meant for him to kiss her. He complied with an eagerness he had not felt since he was thirteen years old, and a daughter of one of his mother's acquaintances had cornered him in the garden.

It took a few moments for him to realize that Eliza's usually soft lips were set in an unyieldingly thin line, and utterly unresponsive to his ministrations. Her hands were no longer on his face, and when he pulled away, he noticed that they were balled into tense fists in her lap.

"That's not what I meant."

Henry sat back, and regarded her with a baffled expression. "What on earth do you mean, 'that's not what I meant'? I pour my heart out at your feet, you mock me and demand physical proof of my regard; once offered said physical proof, you rebuff me. What the devil do you want?"

Eliza closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, an gesture which Henry was sure she had adapted from him, as he had done it often while she had still been his student. "I'm not a child with a skinned knee, Henry; a kiss will not suffice."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Of course you don't." Eliza sighed, and patted one of his hands as one might a slow child. "I should like it very much if you-" Eliza faltered, as if searching for the proper words. "I should like to see your sincerity manifest in-" A blush rose to her cheeks as she struggled.

"I told you before that I would do anything."

"Court me."

Henry stared at Eliza for a good long time upon hearing her strange request. His eyes searched hers for signs of jest, finding none; he leaned forward, frowning, and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Really?"

"You've been away for a good long time, Henry."

"I know, Eliza. I behaved like a bounder."

"I know you did. Which is why, I feel, we need to start over entirely."

"Clean slate, so to speak."

"Yes."

Henry regarded her proposal, forming his forefingers together in a steeple and touching the tips lightly against his lips. "You realize that I have no idea how to court a woman."

"I didn't think you did. Don't fret, Henry, I have no idea how to be courted."

"Hmm… That Eynsford-Hill child seemed to have the right idea. Shall I sleep outside of your door, and bring you rubbish like flowers and awful verses with unstructured rhyming schemes?"

"Freddy has a good heart."

"Does he? Offering himself up as your lover while living off the allowance I give you, that's what you consider a 'good heart'?"

Henry felt a modicum of relief when Eliza chuckled softly. "That was bizarre, wasn't it? Poor Freddy, he must be desperate to leave his mother's home."

"Desperate being the operative word."

Eliza smiled down at her hands, smoothing her bedcovers. "I wouldn't want you to do all of that, because it wouldn't be you." She cocked her head to one side. "Do you realize we've spent more time in this marriage apart than together? It's as if the whole thing was cancelled out."

"Are you implying that you'd like a divorce to make all of this starting over business truly authentic?"

Eliza's eyes widened, her face paling considerably. "No, of course not. I've just had your child!" Her voice took on an edge of hysteria that made Henry regret his words. "What makes you think I would ask such a thing of you? It isn't decent!"

Henry moved from his chair to the edge of the bed, bending over to press a kiss to her forehead, one of his hands moving to stroke her cheek. "I'm sorry I even mentioned it, Eliza, I should have known better than to assume that is what you meant." He hushed her when a sob rent from her throat. "There now, you're a good girl; you've told me as much on many occasions."

Astoundingly, Eliza allowed Henry to pull her against his chest and stroke her hair until her tears subsided. She sniffled, and looked up at him. "I wouldn't mind if you, or I, moved out of 27A for a little while, however."

Henry shot to his feet suddenly, causing Eliza to lose her balance and teeter sideways on the bed. "A separation?"

"Short of divorce, it would make the business of starting anew seem more realistic."

"You want to expel me from the household like a naughty swain, and force me to beg my way back in?" Eliza's silence spoke volumes. "Woman, the mere fact that you've borne my child makes this whole courtship business utterly ridiculous!"

"You told me you would do anything. It's not as if I am taking you up on your offer to jump into the Thames, is it?" Damn her logic.

"Well, where the devil do you want me to go?"

Eliza shrugged. "Your mother's home? Perhaps Edward would take you in."

"A choice between a house full of screaming brats, or an endless procession of geriatric well-wishers."

"You ought to change your attitude about children, as you've fathered one."

Henry scowled. "I was referring to other people's children; Little Elle isn't a brat, in the least. I daresay she's one of the most lovely females of my acquaintance; she looked right at me without falling into hysterics. Fearless, my girl."

Eliza gave Henry a radiant smile, making him feel better than he had in months. "I was afraid the thought of being a father would horrify you."

"Well, it did; but now that I've seen that you've borne me a steady, reasonable sort of creature, the idea isn't as objectionable as originally thought."

"Well, I am glad you like her."

Henry sat back down, basking in Eliza's warmth. It was a pleasant change from the frosty, teary creature he had encountered earlier.

"Do you really want me to go, Eliza?" He inquired, utilizing his most winning tones.

Eliza frowned suddenly. "You are trying to get around this. It won't work. That is the same voice you use when you are trying to wheedle the cook into making extra strawberry tarts."

"Fine. I shall stay at Mother's, you heartless guttersnipe." He stood up and started walking towards the door.

"Henry!" Eliza cried. He looked back, unable to mask the hope in his expression. "I did miss you." Eliza looked as though she were going to add to the statement, but she simply looked away.

"I will call on you in a few days time, when you are feeling better."

"I look forward to it."

Henry left the room, closing the door behind him. He would ask Pickering about how to court a woman at his earliest convenience.


	2. The Higgins Family Contemplates

Chapter Two: The Higgins Family Contemplates

Author's Note: Thank you, those who added me to Author Alert and favorited this story, as well as its predecessor, I am so flattered! However, I really do love reviews. Good reviews, so-so reviews, any reviews at all! I am a bit of a sucker for validation, and it keeps the creative juices flowing. Thanks again, and enjoy chapter two!

* * *

The elder Eleanor Higgins never thought she would see the day when she would have to take Henry back under her wing. Like most women of her age and station, she had been enjoying her final years of independence before she would be expected to be taken in by Henry to be cared for in her twilight. Not that that particular time was coming soon; Eleanor was an extremely active sort of person for her age. She still took regular walks, whether it be balmy weather or freezing, and preferred to run her own errands with the assistance of her lady's maid, if she could possibly help it. Eleanor was blessed with sound hips, and the only real complaint she suffered from was a slight rheumatism. Yes, Eleanor was a picture of health and independence.

Needless to say, Eliza's unusual request did not surprise Eleanor in the least. Her son, for whatever reason, had treated his young wife most appallingly, and now he had to face the consequences. It pleased Eleanor, the fact that Eliza wasn't one of those submissive wives that welcomed their erring husbands with open arms, no matter the infraction; the girl had pride. Henry's father would have adored the spirited chit.

Eleanor never failed to look upon her years of marriage with Arthur Higgins with the greatest fondness. She had been raised in a very strict, very Victorian household, and had gone into marriage with the air befitting her feminine training. She was meek, and completely ready to serve her significantly older husband. Arthur, who had apparently seen a steel spine underneath her soft, simpering exterior, raged at her lowered eyes, and gentle voice, and promptly educated her in the art of speaking her mind. "And you had best do it in a loud voice, because I've a loud family," he instructed. Eleanor never quite reached the levels of assertiveness typical of a Higgins, and did not entirely shed her Victorian ideals, but she had become somewhat of her own person, rather than the milquetoast prototype that she was expected to be. Yes, given his help in shaping Eleanor's personality, Arthur would have admired his favorite son's wife very, very much. In fact, Eleanor imagined that, somewhere, Arthur was having a good laugh at Eliza's deft handling of Henry.

Henry arrived in the late afternoon, after having spent the previous ten hours sleeping off the exhaustion of his travels combined with the long wait of Eliza's first childbirth. To Eleanor's astonishment, Henry had brought Colonel Pickering with him, and both men were carrying suitcases.

"I've invited Pick to stay too, Mother, I hope you don't mind. He has a knowledge of females that I lack, and I daresay he will be more use to me here." Colonel Pickering bowed his head, apologetically.

"I could remove myself to the Carlton, Mrs. Higgins. I would hate to impose on you."

Before Eleanor could open her mouth to make a rejoinder, Henry spoke first. "Tosh! Mother doesn't mind. Do you, my dear?"

Eleanor sighed, "Of course not, Henry." She gestured for the two of them to sit. " I will have your rooms prepared shortly, gentlemen. In the meantime, let's take tea and discuss the grim business of courtship."

Once the tea had been delivered and served, Eleanor decided to take charge of the conversation. "So, Henry, what are you going to do?"

"Pardon?"

"This business with Eliza, what have you decided on as a course of action?"

Henry shrugged. "I'm damned clueless- excuse me, Mother- _I'm completely_ clueless. I don't know what she likes."

Pickering's eyebrows shot up. "Indeed, Higgins? You married her, you ought to know very well what she likes."

Henry frowned. "What I've gleamed is that she loves flowers, but has no ear for poetry; She seems to not dislike jewelry, or else my taste in it is so fine that she doesn't object to it." He trailed off. "She likes shackling herself to confirmed old bachelors and throwing their lives into absolute disarray."

"She seems to enjoy dancing, or at the very least excels at it," Eleanor offered, helpfully.

"I excel at dancing, and I despise it," Henry replied. "Although, once she got the hang of it, Eliza did seem to enjoy herself." Unbidden, a memory arose of his hand resting gently at her side as they glided across the floor at the Embassy ball. She had performed admirably with her other dance partners that night, but with the icy reserve of one that was carrying out an expected task. From the moment Henry took Eliza into his arms for the waltz, she seemed to glow with an internal light, and her body relaxed at his touch. He had often replayed that memory with fondness during their separation, conveniently pausing his recall at the moment he had handed her off like a sacrificial lamb to that oily Karpathy. The hurt and confusion in her eyes did not register with him that night, but had come back to haunt him later.

"Once a reliable nanny is established, I believe a night on the town would not be out of sorts," Eleanor suggested.

"You mean facing other people, and making inane conversation with them?" Henry asked with a shudder of disgust.

"Oh, Henry, really! This is not about what would please you most; you are trying to court Eliza's favor. She is young, and perhaps she would like to socialize, as young things are wont to do."

Henry resisted the urge to sulk. His mother was right, of course. He didn't wonder if Eliza's request was more punishment than experiment. In trying to court her, he was being dragged from his comfort zone, kicking and screaming. Henry fervently wished that he could skip all of this, and the two of them could be sitting together in quiet contemplation of their marriage. He could see it now: Himself sitting in his armchair in front of a fire, smoking a cigar and poring over his latest text; Eliza on the sofa, her posture relaxing into an unselfconscious sprawl as it often did when she did not have an audience, studying her Greek, or perhaps Latin. Perhaps she would lift her head and smile at him in her breathtakingly feminine way, with a little bit of a blush creeping over her ivory cheeks. With words, unspoken, he would set down his book, and she hers, and they would head upstairs in pursuit of the more pleasurable aspect of marriage.

Henry frowned once more, when he realized he had neglected to factor in Little Elle on this portrait of family life. It was so easy to forget that he was now a father. The idea had been so remote to him, especially after his long years of bachelorhood. What sort of father could he possibly make? Would he be able to mould the child into a strong, intelligent young woman, or would Elle wither and retreat under the constant exposure of his acerbic nature? Surely, Eliza's kind and gentle nature would make up for what Henry lacked. Elle's calm, slightly unfocused gaze came to mind, and Henry was filled with a rush of determination. That was his family, and he would walk naked through the fires of Hell to get them back, if need be!


	3. Eliza's Gentleman Caller

Romancing the Guttersnipe

Chapter Three: Eliza's Gentleman Caller

* * *

Eliza Higgins was roused from bed by the sounds of a thin, unearthly wail. It took her sleep-addled brain a moment to process that it was not a banshee whose cries filled the air, but an infant; a few more moments passed before she recalled that it was _her _infant. It was Eliza's fourth night as a mother, and the revelation had occurred to her no less than six times thus far.

Eliza made her way to the bassinet, which she had insisted be set up in the bedroom she occupied. Eliza quickly identified Elle's cries as ones of hunger, removed the bawling child from the bassinet, and headed to the rocking chair to feed her.

Elle immediately quieted down once the prospect of a meal was before her, and Eliza felt the tension in her shoulders disappear once the room became silent, but for the contented suckling noises of her daughter. Eliza fought the fatigue that threatened to overtake her by contemplating the situation at hand. Henry had returned, and Eliza had surprised herself, and everyone else, by 'throwing him out'. It didn't matter how much she loved him, or how much she had yearned for him every day that he was away; he had rankled her pride with his sudden appearance. She had sensed immediately that, despite his contrite appearance, he very much expected to be welcomed back into the fold without a moment's hesitation. He was underestimating her strength once again, exploiting her regard from him. Bastard.

It had been no small feat, naming her terms for his return. How she trembled and fought inwardly, when his lips had descended on hers! Every nerve-ending in her body fired-off and fairly screamed with joy, and she had softened against his ministrations for one nearly imperceptible millisecond, before summoning up the steely resolve that years of hardened existence had given her. Henry hadn't appeared to have noticed the slight relapse, or if he did, he did not mention it to Eliza. By all appearances, her role of towering pillar of strength had convinced him, even if it hadn't completely convinced her.

Eliza looked down at her child. Even in the darkness, it was apparent to Eliza that Elle's complexion was becoming more and more like Henry's, which was about where the resemblance stopped. Most of Elle's features were akin Eliza's own; there was practically no difference between the infant in Eliza's treasured black and white photograph, and the child in her arms. When finally, Elle was sated and sleepy, Eliza stood up and carried her back to the bassinet. Elle frowned in her sleep, and Eliza found herself taking back her previous thought of the lack of resemblance between father and daughter. Henry was definitely present in Elle's stormier moods; it was an amusing revelation, and Eliza could not wait to inform Henry of it.

Eliza smiled as she settled back into bed. Henry was due to visit in the morning; they were to have breakfast, and discuss the hiring on of a nanny, as well as other things pertaining to their daughter's future. Although Eliza was resolved to treat Henry with careful reserve for these crucial early days in their 'courtship', she was thrilled at the prospect of seeing him, nonetheless. Despite her anger, Eliza's feelings for her husband were as strong as they ever had been, albeit standing on a more delicate, doubt-filled foundation than previously. The fear of allowing him back into her life, only to have him leave again was overwhelming, and Eliza was definitely on the defensive; she loved and needed him desperately, but it would be a long time indeed before she would let him know.

"Damn you, Henry," Eliza swore under her breath, the smile gone from her face as the dark fears took over. No matter how much time passed, every night she slept in an empty bed was like the night Henry first left.

Eliza was able to sleep until the early signs of dawn before Elle woke up once more, crying to be fed, and most likely changed. Eliza had shocked Mrs. Pearce earlier, when she confessed that she had experience changing nappies. After all, there had been no nursemaids in Lisson Grove, or Covent Garden. As a young girl, Eliza found that keeping watch of neighborhood children when their parents cared enough about their welfare to designate a caregiver on nights they went out to the pubs, often put money in her pocket. More than likely, Mrs. Pearce lapsed on Eliza's humble beginnings.

After Elle had been cleaned, and fed, Eliza handed the baby off to Mrs. Pearce so that she could prepare for the day. Eliza gave a sigh of dismay as she studied herself in the mirror. She had not gained a great deal of weight during the pregnancy, so her body seemed to still have much of its original shape, but for a slightly discouraging sag in her midsection. Her breasts were somewhat larger, which cheered her a bit, but the spidery stretch marks marring her body were positively disgusting. On top of that, her lack of sleep showed plainly on her pale and drawn features, and her hair desperately needed a wash. The latter, at least, could be helped.

After luxuriating in the bath, Eliza was styled, dressed, and sent downstairs to receive her visitor, who had arrived just before she was finished getting ready. Henry sat patiently in his own parlor, looking quite sleek and dapper to Eliza, even though he was clad in his usual tweed apparel. Their eyes met, and then, to Eliza's astonishment, he stood up in reverence to her presence. Adding to her surprise to the point where for a moment Eliza was sure her heart stopped beating, Henry crossed the room, took her right hand, and kissed it.

"Mrs. Higgins," he greeted with an utterly formal air. Eliza was entirely sure she did not care for it. He was practically simpering like a debutante for heavens' sake!

"Professor Higgins," Eliza replied. Henry smirked at her return of the formality he had bestowed, which caused Eliza to roll her eyes. "You are teasing me, Henry."

Henry gasped in mock offense. "I? Madam, you should know by now that I am always in terrible earnest." He chuckled when Eliza playfully slapped his chest. "Too much of the respectable lover for you, my dear?"

"It would be believable if you could only grasp the concept of 'sincerity'."

"I see the absence of my wit these past months hasn't dulled yours; Eliza, you are sublime," He praised. "I come courting, reverence oozing out of every pore, and you repay me with the sharp end of your tongue; I wouldn't expect anything less from a wife of mine." He studied her. "You look quite attractive today, wife. Motherhood agrees with you."

Eliza glowed from his sincere praise, although, she did find his eyesight must have been a bit poor to make such an observation. She felt awful, and unattractive. No matter; he was standing before her, and they were engaging in playful, easy banter, as though a long separation had never even occurred.

Impulsively, Eliza took one of his arms, and smiled. "Shall we continue our conversation about how attractive I am over breakfast?"

Henry seemed taken aback by her voluntary contact with him, but nodded. "I am famished."

Eliza and Henry shared a subdued, and uneventful breakfast, with topics ranging from Elle's upcoming christening, to proper agencies to go through for childcare, to Henry's vivid, and somewhat rude, descriptions of the various callers at his mother's home. Eliza laughed, and scolded his slightly exaggerated impersonations of their various dialects.

Once they were finished eating, Eliza guided Henry to the nursery, where one of the maids was attempting to pacify a shrieking Elle.

"Heavens! Listen to the wailing from this one," Henry exclaimed. He grinned at Eliza, "She seems to take after you." He was rewarded with a rather unladylike punch to the left bicep.

"Let me take her, Susan," Eliza instructed. The maid handed the infant to Eliza, and was dismissed. "She fairly fled. I don't think anyone on staff has ever dealt with a baby before, with the exception of Mrs. Pearce."

"Most of them have been in my household for years, so the chances are slim." Henry looked down at his daughter. "She's prettier today than she was a few days ago; not so oddly shaped about the head anymore." His observation was rewarded with a glare.

"Would you like to hold her?" Eliza asked. Henry was surprised at how little control he had over the nod he gave. A moment later, he was holding his daughter, reacquainting himself with her. Up until that moment, Elle had still been fussing. The silence that occurred once she was safe in Henry's arms was enough to stun both parents.

"I usually have to feed her or change her in order to get the crying to stop, and here, all you have to do is hold her," Eliza observed, with the slightest bit of jealousy in her voice.

"I have to admit, I've never been much of a calming influence on females before. I assumed the last time I held her, she was just too tired to shriek at me, now-…" He trailed off.

Eliza smiled at the two of them, unwilling to let her bitterness ruin the mood. She wondered if her own father's presence had ever calmed when she had been an infant. Somehow, Eliza doubted it. She felt as though she had emerged from the womb, locking horns with Alfred Doolittle. She turned her attention away from Henry and Elle to observe her surroundings. Such a warm, soothing room. Elle would never know hunger, or biting cold; Elle would always have a warm blanket, and a roaring fire, and parents that loved her. It was strange to Eliza, feeling jealous of her own daughter's good fortune, knowing that Elle's childhood would be a safe, carefree one. Relief soon overtook the jealousy. Elle would never have to carry an insensible Henry up to his rooms and put him to sleep; Henry would never try to sell his daughter to drinking companions or complete strangers. Safe. Elle was safe.

"She knows she is in good hands," Eliza remarked.

"I fear I am going to make a muck up of fatherhood."

Eliza shook her head. "You are silly to think so." She stood next to him, and on an impulse, kissed his cheek. She smiled when Henry's cheeks burned crimson.

He cleared his throat, awkwardly. "Erm-… I'm glad her looks favor yours." He handed the now sleeping Elle back to Eliza. "She does sleep an awful lot, is that normal?"

Eliza nodded. "So I am told." The kiss had caused a strange sort of tension to crackle between them, rendering them speechless but for a few oddly constructed remarks. Dumb as two wrong-footed adolescents were they.

"Eliza?"

"Henry?"

"Would you like me to take my leave?"

_No, stay! _Eliza's heart cried. _Don't ever leave me again, please!_

"The weather is getting so nice again. Perhaps we could go for a stroll?" She offered. Henry had been holding himself very tense while waiting for Eliza's response; she noticed that tension vanish at her suggestion, and could've sworn her ears had picked up a barely audible sigh.

"Yes, I'd like that very much."


	4. Eleanor is Informed

Romancing the Guttersnipe

Chapter Four: Eleanor is Informed

* * *

Henry returned to his mother's home later that afternoon, immensely pleased with the progress he had made with Eliza. They had strolled for hours, heedless of the chill that still clung to the early spring air. During their journey, an empty store front caught Eliza's eye, causing her to muse about the old notion of a flower shop. "I suppose the idea is ridiculous now. I'm a married woman with a child and a household to consider," she remarked, with only the slightest hint of bitterness in her musing tone.

Henry had been attuned to Eliza's various moods for some time now, and immediately caught the wistful undertones in her statement. He took one of her hands in his, and squeezed. "Such a thing would be taxing at this point, wouldn't it, my dear?" He sighed. "If only I had left you to your hard-won independence."

Eliza snorted. "If I'm not mistaken, you are regretting my choosing you over Freddy."

Henry darkened. "You only threatened to marry Freddy to get a rise out of me."

"Did I?" Eliza was teasing, but decided to divert the subject when Henry's jaw tensed. "A flower shop seems so very dear, and I believe the cost of private schools will break us, once Elle is old enough." She tugged his hand, which was still holding hers. "Home. I am rather tired, and this pipe dream is just that." Eliza kissed Henry on the cheek. "It's about time for luncheon, and I should like you to stay for that as well." The prospect had been enough to pull Henry's attention away from thoughts of his rivalry with the Hill boy.

Not surprisingly, Henry's mother was full of inquiries about his afternoon. Eleanor glowed at Henry's vaguely detailed account, and declared that there was hope for her son yet. "Henry, there was something I was meaning to ask you."

"Other than the thirty odd questions you've already bombarded me with?"

Eleanor ignored her son's sarcastic rejoinder. "What made you leave Eliza in the first place?"

Henry blanched at the query. He hadn't realized that the particulars of his flight were not well-known. "Eliza did not tell you?"

"Not a word."

With a sigh, Henry divulged the entire matter, starting with his involvement in Catherine Fitzroy's expulsion from the Higgins household. By the time he finished, Eleanor's face was flushed with guilt.

"My god! Oh, Henry, Eliza hasn't breathed a word of it to me, and surely she must have known the last we spoke; her behavior towards me has never been anything but perfectly cordial!" Eleanor's eyes began to tear up. "She named your daughter after me."

"Damn it, Mother, don't cry. Here now, take my handkerchief, darling. There, there." Henry comforted his mother, awkwardly. Eleanor was never prone to hysterics, at least not in front of Henry. He had always assumed his mother was made from steel; in fact, all his life, Henry had set Eleanor as the gold standard for women, a standard absolutely no one had been able to measure up to. Now, here she was, weeping in his arms like a-, well, like a human being.

"She is better than all of us, your Eliza." Eleanor remarked, after regaining her composure. "You must not have known her at all, if you so doubted her capacity to forgive."

"How could I have known?"

Eleanor glared. "She came back to you after all those months of bullying her, and making her feel as though she were nothing at all to you. How could you not have known her nature by then?" She shook her head. "I never taught you to run from things, Henry."

Henry felt quite as he had when was a young boy, breaking a vase and then hiding the evidence. Eleanor had spotted him as the culprit almost immediately after finding the pieces, and had said something quite to the effect of what she was telling him now.

"I did not want forgiveness when I couldn't forgive myself, but I also didn't want to see her condemn me," Henry confessed, quite candidly, to Eleanor's astonishment.

"And now?"

Henry studied his fingernails, his shoes, the scuffs on the hardwood floor. "I suppose- I believe I would do anything at all to have her forgiveness." He looked up at his mother. "I really cannot do without her."

Eleanor smiled, and stood on her tip-toes to press a kiss to Henry's forehead. "She has already forgiven you, or else she would not be going through all this courtship business. I believe that she is just trying very hard to trust you. Forgiveness is easily given, my love; trust is devilishly tricky to regain once lost." She caressed his cheek. "Think, Henry, has anything in Eliza's entire life ever given her reason to believe you will remain a constant in her sphere? I believe the child has had so many disappointments, that she is trying to protect herself. You must be patient with her."

Henry glared. "Of course I will be patient with her! Haven't I always been patient with the silly thing?"

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "Now is not the time for arrogance, Henry. You know quite well that you have the patience of a child waiting to open presents."

"Well!"

"It's true, Henry. Now run upstairs and get rested for dinner. Off with you!"

Henry obeyed, grumbling the entire way.

Eliza returned to 27A, quite unable to quit smiling. Henry, although not acting the part of an ardent, lovesick admirer, had behaved himself rather charmingly the entire day. She glowed at the recollection of his gentle reverence towards their daughter. It seemed that her misgivings about his ability to be a good father were a bit unfounded. It was clear to her that he himself had doubts, judging by the confessions of his fears at the undertaking. They had both been wrong, and she was quite sure that anyone who would happen to see Henry with Elle would revise their opinions as well.

Henry was almost… sweet. She could tell that the compliments he bestowed on her that day were genuine, no matter how awkwardly given. He had even held her hand in public, and allowed her to give him a small token of affection in the form of a very public kiss on the cheek. Not that every minute of his visit was completely saccharine; they had both fell back into their usual heated banter with considerable ease. Surprisingly, the latter was an aspect of the relationship that Eliza felt she missed the most. It got tiresome, having a household of people, going out of their way to agree with absolutely everything she said, in order to keep her from becoming 'upset'. Henry never coddled, always challenged, and Eliza returned the courtesy with a vengeance. During their short honeymoon, Eliza found that once they were legally able to do so, arguing greatly enhanced the more physical aspects of marriage. Many a time, a petty argument over something as simple as the analysis of a bit of poetry, would evolve into a more tender expression of passion. Eliza's face went flush at the recollection.

After spending a few hours in the nursery tending to Elle, and a light dinner, Eliza made her way to Henry's study to go over accounts. Where Henry was apt to labor for hours over the books, Eliza found she was able to do the balancing in more than half the time. It had been quite by accident that Henry had discovered Eliza's quick grasp of numbers, back when they were struggling to turn her into a 'lady'.

"_Wotcha doin', Professor?" _Eliza had inquired one day, upon discovering her teacher furiously scribbling, and striking a piece of paper, sometimes looking at his fingers as though counting them.

"_Something you will be expected to do, if we ever do succeed in making a proper lady out of you. I am going over household accounts, as you will go over business accounts after we get you that flower shop." _He chuckled. _"No, I suppose that won't do. We will have to get you an accountant."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because I haven't the time or the patience to teach you to speak and act properly while throwing mathematics into the mixture. It would be a nightmare." _He cursed, and attacked an erroneous sum with his pen.

"_Seems you don't know much o' it, in the first place, you don'," _was Eliza's cheeky reply.

"_What would you know about it? Now, stop being a damned nuisance and go recite your alphabet!"_

Eliza crossed the room to peer over Henry's shoulder. He turned to give her a murderous glare when he heard her disapproving _"Tsk." _

"_What the devil-'_

"_May I?" _Eliza inquired, reaching for the pen.

Henry acquiesced, partly because Eliza's request had been performed to perfection, and partly because he was genuinely curious. To his astonishment, Eliza eyes merely scanned the page before her, before going to work. There was no working out of the problems on the paper, she merely wrote row after row of solutions. When she was finished, Eliza glanced up at him with a smirk, and pushed the book towards him.

"_Give me a moment before you start crowing, you ridiculous creature." _After several minutes of checking her work, Henry looked at the girl with genuine astonishment. _"How on earth did you do that, you uneducated minx?"_

"_Numbers 'ave always been easy. Me dad always 'ad me keep track o' what 'e owed creditors an' friends," _Eliza replied with a shrug, before walking off reciting her 'ABC's' in the dreadful way only a cockney lass could.

It had been her first truly gratifying moment at 27A, and it had been over something Henry had not taught her.

Eliza finished the balancing the books, when the telephone rang. She allowed one of the servants to answer, and then was told that her husband was on the phone. Eliza grinned, quite against her will, and ran to receive to the phone.

"Henry?" She could not conceal the pleasure in her voice.

"Oh. Hello, Eliza."

"You are calling very late, husband."

She heard him clear his throat. "Well, yes, I suppose I am." There was a pause. "Eliza, would you like to go to accompany me to dinner and perhaps the ballet tomorrow night?"

Eliza bit her bottom lip and blushed. "Of course! I mean… I've never been to the ballet."

"Well, it's settled then."

"Yes."

"Goodnight then."

"Goodnight, Henry."

Eliza set the phone down, still grinning. Her husband never ceased to surprise her.


	5. Leaps and Bounds

Romancing the Guttersnipe

Chapter Five: Leaps and Bounds

* * *

Eliza sat at her vanity table, while her hair was twisted, pulled, curled, and pinned about her head by a teenage girl, nattering away in French. Jane Higgins was reflected in Eliza's looking glass, and seated on the edge of her bed, holding Elle in her arms, and responding quite adeptly to the hairdresser.

"It seems almost bad manners; you know I don't understand a word the two of you are saying," Eliza complained, wincing when Violette pulled a bit too hard while weaving a crimson band through her locks. The girl apologized, in English, and Eliza was not sure if it was for speaking in French or for attempting to rip her hair from her scalp.

"I shall have to teach you French, Eliza, it is such a chic language."

"I understand a bit from what I picked up on my honeymoon; just enough to inquire about prices, request tea, and bid a good day."

Jane giggled. "All you need is to learn how to explain your measurements, and we will have you set for a full day of shopping in Paris!" Jane began to coo when Elle started to fuss. "Who will have a well-dressed mama? You will, Elle, you will!" She sighed, wistfully. "My children are getting so old. I've no babies left."

"Jane! Little Cathy is barely a year old; still a baby by my reasoning."

"You will understand when Elle begins to crawl. It's all down hill from there; soon she will be telling you that she is much too big for your lap and that Father makes the rules, not you."

"You are being very silly."

"Am I? You ought to have had a little boy, Eliza. Little boys adore their mothers forever, even if they do get too big for their laps. Daughters are a mother's natural enemy."

"Tosh!"

"If you say so."

They shared a few minutes of amiable silence, before Violette announced that she was quite done with Eliza's hair. Eliza stood up, and crossed the room to her full length glass to admire the complete effect.

The gown had been purchased during the earlier days of Eliza's honeymoon with Henry, quite on a whim. Eliza had noticed it, clinging daringly to a model in the store window, and had immediately resolved to have one of her own. Up until that point, Eliza's wardrobe had consisted of soft violets, pinks, and many, many shades of white. She had wondered why the Colonel and Henry had never saw fit to allow her more striking colors in her wardrobe.

"Eliza, you look smashing!" Jane exclaimed.

The gown in question was sleeveless, satin, and of a very deep crimson hue. The low bodice, and the thin straps at the shoulders were bedecked with black beading, and, starting beneath the bodice, held up by an evenly spaced row of tiny black roses, was a sheer black overlay that fell slightly below the satin hemline. The overlay was open in the middle, revealing more of the blood-red skirt. A pair of black, beaded slippers at Eliza's feet(purchased), and a heavy necklace of onyx at her neck(borrowed), complimented the outfit.

"I feel like a femme-fatale," Eliza groaned.

"You do look a bit dangerous, I will give you that. The crimson in the dress makes your eyes appear almost brandy-colored," said Jane, in admiration.

"He is going to think I look cheap."

Jane shook her head. "Henry won't be able to keep his eyes off of you, Eliza!" She snickered. "That will teach him a lesson, won't it?"

Eliza gave Jane a sharp look. "I'm not entirely certain that I want to teach him such a lesson."

"Well, it is too late to change. Henry has been wearing a trench into the floorboards for the past half hour now."

Eliza swore under her breath, fumbled with her earrings, and pulled on her elbow length gloves. "Thank you for helping me tonight, Jane. I shall have to borrow your Violette for my hair again, despite what Henry thinks about French maids." Eliza grinned cheekily at Violette, whose expression had grown dark. "I knew she could speak more English than she let on."

Jane laughed. "It was nothing, I assure you. I pledge that my household will not ransack yours by time you get back."

"I could have easily had Mrs. Pearce watch her… or a nanny if Henry would only approve of one at last; he seems to find fault in every single woman I interview."

"I don't mind. Besides, the children wanted to make their little cousin's acquaintance at last."

With a parting kiss on the cheek, Eliza made her way down the stairs, feeling very much as she did before the Embassy Ball. Silly, really. They were only going out for dinner and a show, not deceiving royalty.

Eliza found herself frozen somewhere towards the middle of the staircase when Henry's eyes caught her own. Something in his gaze had her rooted to the spot, and almost unable to proceed. His keen, blue eyes surveyed her figure, dark with an emotion that the rest of his features did not betray. Henry looked quite handsome himself, sleek and dark in his evening wear. Eliza knew he was uncomfortable in the confining finery that fashion dictated he wore, but he never looked quite as dashing as he did in formal dress.

"Say something," Eliza found herself pleading.

"Come here, you silly girl." Eliza obeyed the familiar request. He had tried to execute the phrase in his usual slightly irritated tones, but it had come out hoarse, as though he had been deprived of water for ages. He obliged Eliza by helping her into her cloak, taking the liberty of fastening it. Eliza shivered as his gloved hands brushed the slender column of her throat.

"Am I to bring the firearms, in order to defend you from young cads that will undoubtedly swarm you this evening?" He inquired, teasingly.

"A duel, Professor? But you are so old!" Eliza fired back, evoking a long ago conversation from a time when their feelings for each other had not quite taken mutual fruition. To her surprise, Henry's response was to gently cup her face between his two hands, and bring his lips down to brush her own. It was feather-light, like the beat of a butterfly's wings, but the contact caused her body to fairly smolder with internal fire.

"We shall be late, my dear," he remarked in the softest of tones. With that, he offered her his arm, which she willing took, and they set off into the night.

Much to Henry's dismay, his prediction was apt. Eliza seemed to draw every young man in the establishment to her orbit. Not that any of them had the impertinence to interrupt Henry and Eliza's meal in order to approach her; no, they all seemed content to moon over her from a distance, ignoring their own fiancés, wives, and mistresses. The women in question, were giving Eliza their own smoldering stares, although theirs were a bit more green than red.

Henry was sulking by the time dinner was over and dancing had begun. He tried telling Eliza that they hadn't much time to dance, as it would soon be time to leave for the ballet, but before he could say anything, a familiar young swain appeared before them.

"Damn!" Henry cursed.

"Mrs. Higgins, you are a vision tonight," Freddy complimented, causing Eliza to flush red.

"Go away," Henry goaded in a hoarse whisper.

"I should like to dance with your wife. I daresay there will be gossip if you refuse me, or make a scene." It almost came as a threat, and Henry noticed for the first time, that the Hill boy had a bit of a dangerous look to him. It had almost been impossible to see it through the bumbling and the snickering and the fleeing at times previous, but it was more than apparent on that particular evening. Perhaps spirits had contributed to the boy's newfound boldness.

"You are quite right. If I refuse you, it would seem I am suspicious of you and my wife, wouldn't it? Very well, have your victory; Eliza, oblige the pup."

"No, thank you."

Both men turned to Eliza in mild shock.

"I am entitled to refuse whom I please. I am sorry, Freddy, but my husband and I are going to be late for the ballet, and I long to experience dancing that far exceeds my own." She stood, with Henry quickly mimicking her motion. Eliza extended a hand. "It was so nice to see you, Freddy. I am glad you are looking well." Freddy reluctantly shook hands with her. Eliza then turned to Henry. "Darling?" She took his arm, and they started away.

Freddy gently touched her free arm, causing her to turn to him with a sad, but inquiring expression. "I shall love you forever," whispered the boy, well out of earshot of everyone but Henry and Eliza.

Eliza ignored Henry's tightening on her arm, and smiled sympathetically. "I sincerely hope not, Freddy. I do so want you to find happiness in life."

"He will leave you again, mark my words!" The boy hissed, causing Eliza to blanch.

Henry turned on the boy. "I swear, if you open your mouth one more time, boy- just one more time- I will show you just how little I regard rules of etiquette, and cause a scene that will land you in Hospital with a shattered jaw and a case of amnesia." With that, Henry and Eliza beat a hasty retreat.

It was like grasping a steel pole, holding Henry's arm. His entire frame was held positively rigid as they entered the taxi that would take them to the ballet.

"Henry, don't grind your teeth," Eliza instructed, gently.

Henry did not respond for some time. After an agonizing minute and a half, he exclaimed, savagely, "Damn it, I won't leave you again, it's not true!"

"Henry?"

"If you choose to disregard anything I say ever again, at least believe me in this; I would be twice a fool to ever leave your side, do you understand me?"

"I know you won't."

"No, I don't believe you do, Eliza. It's not your fault; I've destroyed your trust beyond all recognition, the way callous men destroy insects under their boot heel." Henry sighed, heavily. "I will have to show you every single day that I am in earnest, and I pledge to do just that." He raked a hand through his hair, rumpling his graying locks. "I will live at Mother's forever, if that is your wish, and court you until the day I die. Perhaps, when I am cold in the ground your faith in me will have been restored… Darling? Bloody hell, why must they always burst into tears?"

"You wicked man! W-why did you have to p-put it like t-that?" Eliza sobbed into her handkerchief.

Henry frantically pulled Eliza into a sideways embrace, allowing her to continue her tears against his shoulder. "I am sorry, darling. I did not mean to make you feel guilty, I-I was just telling you how I felt. It's dreadfully hard for me to do that, you know. I knew it was going to come out wrong, somehow- just, please, stop crying, Eliza."

"I don't want to do this anymore," Eliza confessed, causing Henry's heart to leap to his throat.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want you to court me anymore."

"Eliza, I told you I was sorry-"

"Please! I don't want you to court me anymore, because I want to go back to being married to you. I want you to come home and help me raise Elle; I want you back in your study, arguing with me over some silly little text; I want-I want you back in our bed." She blushed. "The last part will have to be a few more weeks because of- Well, you can sleep there at least." When Henry failed to conjure a response, Eliza leaned forward and kissed him with all the force and passion she could muster. Once Henry registered what was happening, he responded with equal fervor.

They pulled apart, breathless and panting when the taxi came to a halt.

"Will you move back into the house tonight?" Eliza inquired. To her astonishment, Henry shook his head in the negative.

"I shan't. I have a few loose ends to tie up before I am able." He smiled when Eliza's expression turned dark. "Come now, darling, we will miss your first ballet."


	6. A Promise Fulfilled

Romancing the Guttersnipe

Chapter Six: A Promise Fulfilled

Author's Note: This is the last chapter of my little tale. Well, I shouldn't say that; there will be an epilogue, of course. I am a little sad to let this project go, but I do have another My Fair Lady fanfiction in the works. Look for "A Hole in the River", coming soon to a near you! Once again, your comments and praise have meant the world to me. Thank you, all!

* * *

Eliza ruthlessly yanked at the pins holding up her hair, fuming all the while. How dare he? Who was Henry to decide that he was going to come back on his terms? The rest of their lovely evening was spent with Eliza acting very cool towards Henry, and Henry seemingly immune to the frost, a delighted grin on his face practically the entire night. The nerve!

Eliza had turned her cheek towards Henry's amorous lips when it came time for him to take her back home. She thought that perhaps the blatant snub would pull him off of whatever cloud he was residing on. Henry had walked away, whistling cheerfully.

Eliza's dark thoughts swirled about her head, as she brushed out the intricate knots and curls from her hair. It seemed no matter what she did to convey her anger the rest of the that night, Henry steadfastly refused to be deterred. It was as if he were planning something in that devious brain of his.

"Maybe he's been toying with me, after all," Eliza pondered aloud, as she pulled her nightgown over her head. Well, two could play that game.

The next morning, Eliza holed herself up in the study to write out invitations to Elle's upcoming christening. The phone rang excessively, and after the first five refusals to speak to her husband, Mrs. Pearce decided to tell Henry that Eliza was out shopping.

After sending out the invitations, Eliza arranged for several more interviews with nannies. Henry had helped her come up with a bit of a shortlist, after they both went through the letters that had come in response to their advertisement. It was a very short shortlist, unfortunately, and most of the names omitted had baffled Eliza. "_Too Irish-sounding; I won't have Elle's first words be 'Ma' and 'Da'. 'Mama' and 'Papa', with plans to evolve to 'Mother' and 'Father', thank you very much."_ One poor soul had misspelled 'References', while others did not take enough care with their punctuation.

"Well, Henry is not here," Eliza proclaimed, pulling several letters out of the dust-bin and smoothing them.

Henry arrived at 27A, to find a bit of a line leading from the bottom of the front steps, clear into the house. Everyone in the line was of the fairer sex, ranging from their late twenties to their early sixties, as far as Henry could deduce, and most of their apparel seemed to be of a gently worn variety. It was deucedly confusing.

He followed the line into the study, where Eliza was pleasantly chatting with a middle aged woman with ebony hair, who happened to be in possession of one of the thickest Irish brogues he had even heard so far from the Green Isle itself.

"What the devil is going on?" Henry interrupted, causing both women to start in alarm.

"Husband," Eliza greeted coolly. He noticed that Elle was slumbering in Eliza's arms, and felt a bit sheepish for using strong language. It was not his intention for Elle to ever be exposed to coarse language, however unavoidable with Alfred Doolittle as a grandfather.

"Sir," the creature across from Eliza greeted, fairly ready to roll out her 'R' but stopping short. Northern Ireland, then.

"Wife, I don't recall the interview list being so undis-… long." He had been about to say 'Undiscerning', but his better judgment took hold. Best not to insult an Irishwoman; Henry heard that they could be veritable harridans when crossed.

"Well, my dear, I did not feel we had quite the selection I wanted, so I rescued a few letters. This is Bridget Moran; she comes highly recommended from several good families in the area. In fact, I do believe she may be a frontrunner."

"Hmm. Well, if you don't mind, I will categorize her as a dark horse until I've seen the rest."

Bridget glowered, seemingly offended at being talked about as though she was not in the room.

"I believe I am doing quite alright _on my own._" Eliza spat back, emphasizing the end of the retort.

"Oooh… I see. You are still put out over last night when I refused to come home."

"Henry Higgins!" Eliza cried, hitting his first and last name like they were bloody oaths.

Bridget Moran stood up quite suddenly. "May I please take the babe to the nursery whilst the two of you 'discuss' things? She's sleepin' so sweetly, and I am loathe to have her cryin'."

Eliza allowed Bridget to carry Elle out of the line of fire.

"There now; you've just let a complete stranger walk off with my daughter!" Henry exclaimed.

"She's not a complete stranger; she comes very highly recommended, and you are a ruddy bastard!"

"Madam!"

"Don't you play innocent! Why didn't you come home when I asked you? I thought you wanted to!"

"I did! Erm… that is I do, Eliza, you know I do."

"Well, what's the matter then?"

Henry faltered, and looked about the room.

"Henry?"

"I can't tell you, Eliza. Look… Will you give me until the christening? I swear to you, all will be in place by then. I just- I just can't be here and do what needs to be done."

"Why can't it be done here?" Eliza inquired, her voice taking on a deadly calmness, her thin frame shaking, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Henry grasped her gently by the shoulders and gazed into her eyes. "Eliza, I can tell by your flashing eyes that you are coming up with ridiculous scenarios that have no basis in fact. I won't insult you or I by naming these fears, of course." He kissed her unyielding lips, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and her forehead. "Please, just give me until the christening, and I'll never ask another thing of you ever again. Pray, don't snort Eliza."

"I am sorry, but the latter is hard to believe." She searched his eyes for signs of deceit, finding none, she sighed. "Until the christening."

"Thank you."

"And Miss Moran?"

"As long as she is open to some helpful suggestions about her terrible accent."

"Does she have a choice?"

"Not if she wants a position here, I'm afraid."

"Very well."

Henry left, later that day, feeling as though he had narrowly avoided a firing squad.

The christening occurred two weeks later, with Henry, once again in front of a baptismal font. Edward Higgins, having restored his rapport with his older brother, stood with Jane as godparents. Elle was quite serene during the proceedings, her bright blue eyes wide open, as if calming studying her surroundings.

"Holy places don't make her seize up in horror; she can't be a Higgins," Edward whispered to Jane. Eliza was just within earshot, and rewarded her brother-in-law with a swift, sideways kick that caught him in the shins and made him falter. The vicar cleared his throat, and managed to look scandalized, even though he had been baptizing Higgins children ever since Henry had donned the white gown, and such behavior was commonplace.

Soon after, Little Elle was christened Eleanor Jane Higgins, even though few would ever refer to her by that name in her life, unless her mother became very frustrated with her.

The happy group of friends and family began their sojourn back to 27A Wimpole street, where various delicacies awaited them. Henry, who had been carrying Elle, gave the infant to her nanny, and headed over to Eliza, who was keeping stride with Jane.

"I am afraid we will be arriving a bit later, Jane; could you please forgive my breach in etiquette and play hostess for Eliza, for just a half hour?" Eliza looked confused as Henry took her hand and led her in the other direction without waiting for Jane's response.

"Henry, what on earth? Do you know how unspeakably rude that was?"

"Oh, I shan't forgive myself. Come along, wife, it's only a few more blocks."

Eliza soon recognized the path her husband was taking her on as the one they had used on their first walk together after his return. "Why are you taking me back to that dingy old shop?" When they rounded the corner, Eliza stopped dead in her tracks.

"Because it's your dingy old shop now, my love."

Eliza gasped, and covered her gaping mouth with a trembling hand. A fresh coat of paint, new windows, and a cheery hanging sign bearing her name and business now graced the aforementioned 'dingy old shop'.

"It was something I promised long ago, that I never quite delivered. I just wanted to assure you, that my word is my bond."

"It's my flower shop!"

"Well, it will be, once we've gotten you some employees. Oh! Flowers too. It lacks goods at the moment, I'm afraid."

"How will I-"

"You can spend as much time, or as little as you like here. It is one hundred percent yours, all legal. There is even a little flat above the store that you can use if you decide to work late, or, we can let it out to someone else if you'd like a little bit more money on the side."

Eliza was speechless.

"God, you're not going to cry, are you?"

Henry received an armful of Eliza in response. She rained kisses all about his face, and he felt as though a few of his ribs were about to crack, although he didn't mind so much. "My god, Henry! It's the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me!"

"It's only what I promised when we first met." They exchanged enthusiastic kisses for several more moments, before Henry became self-conscious about them being in public. "Erm…"

Eliza understood, and pulled away. "Come home, husband."

"So, purchasing a store is all it takes to win back your favor, eh?" Ouch. The woman could hold her own in a fight; her lady-slaps were almost deadly, even when merely administered to his chest.

"I was going to take you back before you made your damned grand gesture!" She blushed, and smiled. "It is a lovely gesture though."

Henry took her hand. "Silly girl. Batters me senseless, and then is all gratitude, all in the same breath."

They walked back to their home, wordlessly.

The End.


	7. Epilogue

Romancing the Guttersnipe

Epilogue: Domesticity

* * *

Four Years Later

Eliza stumbled through the front door of 27A after nearly loosing her footing on a patch of ice. She handed her outerwear to the butler, with a gentle smile and pink tinged cheeks.

"Where are my husband and my daughter?" She inquired, voice wearied.

"In the study, ma'am."

Eliza nodded, and requested that hot chocolate be brought into the study at the earliest convenience. When she opened the door to the study she found Elle, sitting on top of Henry's desk, painting intently with the set of oil paints Henry had recently purchased for her. Henry was sitting at the desk, shuffling through a mountain of paperwork, heedless to the fact that Elle seemed to be taking every piece of paper he discarded and marking it with a messy blob of red. The sound of the Eliza's footsteps caused both of them to look up with twin expressions of disapproval.

"I have half a mind to call up Dr. Burke and ask him if he would let his wife trek up and down the city in such an advanced state of pregnancy, " Henry proclaimed, causing Eliza to cover her swelling midsection self-consciously.

"Advanced? I am only five months along, and you know it is the busiest time of year for the shop," Eliza reasoned.

Henry rolled his eyes. "Silly excuse of a made-up holiday."

Eliza sighed, and turned to her daughter. "And what have you to look so sour about, Miss?"

Elle's frowned deepened. "I don't want you to grow a baby."

"Oh? And why not?"

Elle shrugged, and turned her attention back to her painting. "Can't you grow something fun, like a pony or a kitten?"

A sharp burst of laughter erupted from Henry for a moment, before he stifled his mouth with a discreet hand. Eliza shot a glare at her husband, who was fairly shaking with mirth. Elle looked at both parents, her bright blue eyes darkening with confusion. To a four year old, such a question is quite valid.

"Henry, you are a professor; why don't you explain to our daughter why I can't give birth to a pony?"

Henry's face turned to crimson at the inquiry. "Well!" He cleared his throat. "Elle, darling, only horse mothers can grow ponies; human mothers grow human babies… It's biology."

"Oh."

Eliza saw Henry breath a sigh of relief. It really wasn't fair; Eliza usually had to go through several minutes of explanations before her daughter was satisfied with any sort of answer. Perhaps it was appropriate; Henry hadn't had anyone to hang off of his every word in years, and Elle looked to him as though he was the very center of her universe.

"Now, Miss Elle, do you think you would prefer a brother or a sister?" Eliza asked, moving to her sofa, so she could sit down and elevate her sore feet on the nearby ottoman.

Elle climbed down from Henry's desk, and crossed the room so that she could sit next to her mother before the roaring fire. Eliza allowed Elle to lay her curly dark head upon the gentle swell of Eliza's stomach, the girl's ear pressed against it, as though listening for her unborn sibling to whisper its gender. "A brother," Elle announced solemnly.

Eliza smiled up at Henry as he joined the two of them on the sofa, and his hand reached over to muss affectionately at Elle's already untidy mop of hair. "Is that so? Well, I am glad to hear it; I've been surrounded by nothing but females ever since Pickering left for India," Henry half-joked.

"Perhaps Colonel Pickering will be more apt to visit if he knows that he is going to be meeting his namesake," Eliza suggested.

Henry looked at his wife with an amused smile. Although it was the first time they had even broached the topic of baby names together, the thought had crossed Henry's mind before, naming the baby after his own dear friend. It never failed to surprise Henry, every time he discovered that he and Eliza were of a similar mind.

"Hugh Higgins… Can he have another 'H' name for the middle?" Elle asked, her eyes sparkling. "It would be ever so jolly!"

"Oh no, your grandpapa would fairly butcher a name like that!" Henry exclaimed, kissing Elle on the cheek to avoid meeting Eliza's look of disapproval.

"Father's elocution is coming along quite well, now that he has to mingle with a different sort of circle," Eliza reasoned feebly. It wasn't so; Alfred Doolittle clung to his West End vocalizations with a stubbornness that only came with age. It was not unusual for him to go home after a social visit, and leave Elle with a whole new world of insults and creative colloquialisms that threatened to turn her parents' hair pure white.

Eliza mused on her little family with a happy heart. True, not a day went on without her or Henry squabbling over something or other, but there was a strange sort of harmony in their disharmony. None of their disputes ever escalated to the severity that they had earlier in their acquaintance, and rarely did either of them go to bed angry at the other.

Raising Elle was a rewarding, sometimes nerve-wracking experience. Neither Henry or Eliza had much experience in the realm of children, although Eliza did have some. They fought the battles together, and with little interference from the outside. They soon found out that everyone in their acquaintance had very different ideas on how to raise children, and while some methods were sound, most did not feel right to Henry or Eliza. Therefore, while Elle did have a governess, the bulk of the responsibility of shaping the child's mind belonged to Henry and Eliza. There were times when Elle would spend the entire day at Eliza's flower shop, observing the proceedings with a touching sort of curiosity and focus that belied her years. Most days, however, were spent with Henry, soaking in the wealth of wisdom he was only to willing to bestow upon his precious daughter. The latter resulted in Elle coming in possession of a rather keen, somewhat biting wit for her young age, and she was not unafraid to test that wit on unsuspecting victims, namely her cousins.

Eliza was aware that most found her family to be imperfect. Henry was too blunt, no one took a firm enough hand with Elle, and Eliza was considered a social climber with a crude, but entertaining, father. Such was not a recipe for a typical middle class family, but Eliza's life up to that point had been anything but typical. All that Eliza had ever asked for in life was a family, and she had it. Never mind that it lacked the boring, gentility of her neighbors; it was a family. Eliza smiled, accepted the hot chocolate from Mrs. Pearce, and basked in the glow of the fire with her husband and her daughter.


End file.
